


Bone the Heiress

by EK (ilyat)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bestiality, F/M, Knotting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1896558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyat/pseuds/EK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Becquerel has decided that he would like to sire an heir before the universes end. After some consideration, he settles on a young lady in an alternate universe. Now all that's left to do is to woo her for all he's worth.</p><p>For Drone Season 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bone the Heiress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dkey/gifts).



> What a great prompt - it was definitely a fun one to write. I hope you enjoy it, Dkey!

Bec ==> Find The One

It took you a while to find the right one. Well, relatively speaking. _Literally_ speaking it only took a few thousand quick flashes around the little planet - and across time itself - until you came across the Heiress to Crockercorp, a journey that took you about four and quarter seconds total. As soon as you pop back into existence in her particular where-and-when, you take a deep breath, scent the air, and know that you’ve finally found the one.

Or, more precisely, The One.

When you take another breath, you smell something else. It’s vaguely familiar, and it smells both like and unlike you. There’s a sharp acrid tang of electricity and radiation underneath the soft musk of dry fur, smoke and dust and a sterility like the void of space itself. A Guardian. Another First Guardian. But underneath it all is something different, something more like… _prey_.

You flick your ear. It’s the left one. When you turn your head, you see it crouched behind you on a low hanging limb, a feline version of yourself with (you’re certain) all the worst qualities brought out and all the best replaced by self-centered indifference. You bare your teeth in a silent growl. It’s everything you can do to not put voice to it, to not leap forward and snap at the beast with your jaws. There’s no need to start a war here, after all, and with some effort you relax your lips again to hide your fangs, offering it a dip of your head in recognition. This _is_ its universe. And you want something from it. For those reasons alone you keep your peace.

The cat smirks. You’re pretty sure that’s not physically possible, not for a real cat, anyway, but before you can dwell on that it stands up and turns around to saunter off into the void of space-time, tail curling leisurely above its rump like some sort of waving question mark. It knows why you’re here, too, and clearly it doesn’t care. Or at least it doesn’t _mind_. You take that as a good sign and turn your back on the tree to face the house. You can sense her somewhere within. The One.

There’s the sound of running water from behind the house from a hose or maybe a ground sprinkler. You can tell that there’s someone back there, too, but it’s not the one you hopped universes for. This new one is male, older, and smells vaguely of aftershave and shoe polish. It’s possible that he may be The One’s guardian, or maybe even her Guardian, but you aren’t too concerned about that.

You take a step toward the house, about to walk inside, or maybe just _jump_ inside, when you hear another sound coming up the street and it makes the stiff hairs between your shoulder blades prickle. You pause again, this time turning your head the other way - away from the cat’s former resting place and toward the drive, where there’s one of those little mailboxes perched precariously at its end. There’s also a small, boxy vehicle rolling to a stop right beside it, a man with a jaunty dark blue cap seated inside as he shuffles through papers and parcels.

Your hackles bristle. You bare your teeth again and this time you really do growl.

You can’t help it.

He’s one of _them_.

He’s about to put a few paper envelopes and one moderately-sized parcel into the mailbox when you lunge forward, barking. The mailman shrieks - the sound of _real_ prey - and for a moment the blood haze descends upon you as universes narrows to a single point, your jaws snapping and the temptation of public servant within their grasp, the stench of fear thick in the air. You’re dimly aware of the cascade of pamphlets and bills and one small rectangular package as they fall to the ground around you, and then of the presence of someone else nearing, but you’re too focused on your target that--

There’s a sudden burst of _cold_ and wet and a shower of water blasts you from the side! With a yelp, you sidestep away from the mailbox - and the mailman - and in the second it takes you to regain your senses, he slams his foot on the accelerator and speeds away.

You’re thoroughly chagrined. You should have recognized the scent of polish and toiletries as The One’s guardian approached, just as you should have recognized when the hose was turned on you and the volley of water shot your way. Well. It wasn’t anything _lethal_. You would’ve sensed that coming from a thousand years away, just like you sense that one innocuous package, wrapped in plain brown paper and ticking faintly.

Ignoring the guardian and the way the fur on your left flank is unpleasantly damp, you bark a few times at the retreating mail truck for good measure.

The guardian approaches you with his fist upraised. You can’t help but shrink back a little, even if you don’t actually feel threatened by him. He’s clearly upset at your antics. Well. Water under the bridge and all that, or at least water on the god dog’s coat. You back a step away from him, your tail dropping. It puts you conveniently next to the mail on the ground.

With one carefully timed movement, you kick back with a hind paw at the little brown package and send it skidding out into the street. It comes to a rest on the twin yellow lines.

And then it explodes.

You bark again, and this time you wag your tail.

\---

==> Woo the Heiress

Somehow you didn’t quite picture _this_ when you first set out to find your mate. You vaguely anticipated long walks on the beach (perhaps involving leashes and frisbees), and candlelit dinners (you’ve gotten quite good at locating fresh steaks of both the bloody _and_ irradiated variety), and staying up late with engaging conversations that oh-so-deftly delve into flirtatious dialogue (of which, you’re certain, you are the master, oh yes). As it turns out there aren’t any of these.

Instead, The One’s guardian gives you an approving pat on the head and invites you inside his home.

This is after everything has calmed down. There were a great many cars and trucks with red and blue flashing lights that arrived shortly after the explosion, and the guardian spoke at length with several uniformed humans. A couple of them had given you a friendly pat as they passed, too, and you dutifully wagged your tail at them even though you were far more interested in that dark haired girl peering out from the second story window at the commotion.

The first time she did that, you caught a whiff of sugar and soap and a deep, husky musk that sent tingles down your spine. Oh yeah. You were _so_ right about her.

But now? Now is go-inside-time, and that’s an important time indeed.

You try to remember the particulars of what Jade had insisted that you do and not-do when inside her tower. There were always Things and Places that were Off Limits for some reason or another, and you consciously try to give them a decent berth as you pass. Just in case. The guardian takes you inside the kitchen, and you make certain to sit more than three paces away from the food storage box. Jade had sometimes gotten cross at you when you lingered too close, even when it was mealtime, and even when she was fetching a bloody hunk of meat just for you.

The guardian observes your polite behavior with casual approval as he fills a mixing bowl with water from the tap. You decide it is probably rude to point out that you could just jump to a lake somewhere, or a stream, or any number of far off places or times to get a drink, so instead you just wag your tail at him when he sets the bowl down on the floor. You take a few laps of it for good measure.

By then that wonderful musky-sugary scent wafts stronger, and you can hear loud footsteps clumping down wooden steps. A moment later and she comes into the kitchen. She! Her!

The One.

She hugs her guardian first, and he hugs her back, but you are far more interested in inhaling that wonderful aroma of young, fertile human bitch to pay much attention to what they say.

That she is happy to see him safe and sound and he glad to be there in turn is clear. You suppose that the timing of your arrival to coincide with the delivery of some sort of bomb was well orchestrated indeed. No doubt some third party observer will attribute your fortuitous arrival as a carefully planned move all along, in some distant universe, on some strange version of the internet. You think that’s quite alright.

“Does this mean we can keep him?” You hear her ask the question aloud. The realization that she is referring to you snaps you out of your reverie, your senses momentarily dampened as you hone in on the moment. She’s turned to look at you with wide, dark eyes, a broad smile on her face. You wag your tail and offer a polite bark.

Hello there, you voluptuous vixen! You smell particularly ravishing today. Perhaps we can get to know one another better in the most _physical_ sense?

She kneels down before you, and it takes all of your willpower to not bury your face in her lap right then and there. Her scent is _overwhelming_ , and you dance around a bit with your hind legs to relieve some of that adrenaline rush. You can tell that you timed things perfectly - that she’s in the right phase of her cycle already, and that you won’t have to wait after all. When she holds out her hand, you lean forward and give her a few slow licks. It’s quite the suave move, if you do say so yourself, your tongue lingering on her palm before curling around her fingers, and you revel in her delighted laughter.

“Aw, he’s adorable! Please, Dad? I know it’s not my birthday for a while longer, but he did save your life. And mine, too, I guess.”

You sit back on your haunches, careful to keep your forepaws tactfully placed in front of your sheath. You’d felt your body starting to get ready to couple - just start, mind you - and you don’t want to give away your intent to her guardian just yet. He’s a bit trickier to read than most, and the last thing you want to do is make things more difficult.

Cocking your head to one side in that way that always makes Jade relent and let you lick her dinner plates, you look up at the guardian with a hopeful expression.

“Well…” He hesitates.

“Pleeeeease?” She insists, now leaning forward to wrap her arms around your shoulders, her ample teats pressing pleasantly against your throat. You try hard not to drool, licking your chops before your mouth betrays you. You’re clearly too distracted to hear his consent, because the next thing you know, she’s hugging you closer (oh yes, right there, right into her bosom) and insisting that you must be half-starved and are in need of a prompt feeding.

Well then. If _she_ wants to wine and dine _you_ , it would be quite un-gentlemanly to refuse, wouldn't it?

\---

==> ~~Ascend~~ Mount

Later that evening, after you’ve ascertained that you truly do have free reign of the house, you pad quietly upstairs when you hear water start to flow somewhere in its plumbing. The guardian, whose name you’ve learned is Dad, is sitting in the den downstairs and watching some sort of news programming on the television set. That’s fine by you. You certainly don’t want him to interfere at this point even though he seems to have accepted your presence.

The bathroom door is shut. You can hear her humming through the door over the sound of the shower.

You _jump_ to the other side and immediately the odor of soap and linens assaults your senses. It’s not unpleasant, but it does mask the much richer scent of her. The One. Jane. The shower curtain is pulled closed, some sort of patterned blue and white affair, but you can still see a vague silhouette against it as she bathes. You sit down on your haunches by the door and wait. This time, you don’t play coy with your forepaws, and you almost hope that your body’s started to respond by the time she’s done.

The water turns off. A dusky hand reaches out from behind the curtain toward the stacked towels, fumbles once, then grabs the one folded on top. A moment later, and the curtain is pulled back and Jane is standing there as naked as a newborn, dripping wet, the towel pressed to her face.

When she lowers it, she nearly shrieks. You give her a toothy grin, tongue lolling from of your mouth, and wag your tail.

“Gosh! You really gave me a fright!” Now, she’s laughing, and starting to dry the rest of her off. “How on earth did you get in here, anyway? At least you were considerate enough to close the door behind you.”

Still shedding water, she steps out onto the bath mat and leans down to give you a pet. It’s a little bit tentative, but when you wag your tail at her, she pets you again, and there’s a lot more feeling behind it. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Just give me a minute, I have to finish getting ready for bed.” You like the way her teats dangle right in front of your face at that angle, and you nose forward to give her face a lick.

Jane laughs again, but this time stands up. “Hold on now, I don’t want to get covered in dog fur when I’m all wet! I’ll pet you some more later. Actually, I bet you could stand for a brushing. I’ll have to find my old comb.”

You tune out the rest of what she has to say, watching her dutifully and wagging your tail whenever she turns her gaze your way. Some time later, after she’s dried and robed and applied several sweet-smelling lotions and sprays, you follow her into her room. Leaping carefully onto her bed, you turn around and settle back on your haunches. She winces, and suddenly you wonder if you did something wrong, if this was some sort of social faux pas that exists outside the realm of Jade’s tower. You fold your ears back and whine plaintively.

“Oh..” Jane hesitates, then closes the door. “You know, you really shouldn’t jump on the furniture like that. Especially the beds or couches! But…” With a surreptitious glance back at her door, she turns the lock, then nods. “Right. Well, since you’re new here, and it’s your first night, I bet it’ll be fine. Just don’t tell Dad. He’ll probably throw a fit if he finds out I let you!”

You perk your ears forward and give her your best doggy grin.

“It’ll be our little secret. Besides, I’m sure I can figure out a good way to turn this into a prank on him!”

Being mindful of the secret part, you give a very quiet bark - more of a whuff than anything - and wag your tail. She laughs at that. Oh yeah, she _really_ likes the way you’re laying the charm on now.

You hear a faint chiming noise, and Jane glances over at her desk. There’s a computer on it, and someone’s clearly just sent her a message - you might be a dog, but you’re also an _omnipotent god_ dog and know about fancy things like Pesterchum - but after a moment she ignores it and just flops down on the bed with you. You settle down beside her, your forepaws spread out comfortably before you. She scritches at your nape, and you turn your head so she can get behind your ears better. It’s not quite the same way that Jade does it, but it still feels really good.

“You’re a real sweetie, you know?” You turn back to give her face another lick. Jane giggles, then flops back. You settle your head on her chest and enjoy how nicely padded it is, the way it rises and falls with each breath, and the way you can watch her expression from there. Her bathrobe is soft and plush but you still wish it weren’t there. “I suppose I should think of a name for you, shouldn’t I? I want to make sure it’s the right one first, though. Maybe Roxy will have some good ideas. I’ll ask her tomorrow.”

You wriggle forward a bit. If that puts you resting more on her chest, well, more’s the better. You’re able to reach her chin with your tongue from this angle, and you give it another lick. She laughs and squirms. The towel that was wrapped around her hair starts to come undone, and she gives her head a little shake to wiggle free of it. A wave of her scent wafts over you, heavily tempered by the sugary-floral smell of her shampoo. You like the way it smells, and you shimmy further up to rest your muzzle on her collarbone. From there, with your nose right at the crook of her neck, you can scent the real Jane, and it makes you want to mount her now.

Patience..

She’s murmuring to you, you realize. It’s nothing important, just sound to fill the space between minutes and a way for her to feel like she’s reassuring some poor lost puppy who’s stumbled into her home and her bed. You slowly lap at the part of her neck in front of you, that tender hollow just above the collarbone, and she pets you again and murmurs, “Good boy.” You don’t stop there. You draw your tongue up the side of her throat, to her ear, and lick at it with careful precision. At first she giggles, but then she sighs another, “Good boy,” and your nose prickles as you scent her arousal.

Jane’s one hand drags fingers through the thick fur at your withers, bunching in it and kneading at the muscle beneath. She drops her other hand lower, and, after a few seconds, you’re struck by another waft of her sex and this time much stronger. You’re already starting to react, your prick tightening inside the sheath, the tip poking out bright green amid your white fur. She doesn’t notice yet, but you do notice the way her hands start to move in the same rhythm together, the one at your nape and the other slid beneath her bathrobe. You lick down her throat again, then pay particular attention to one spot that makes her murmuring voice hitch and her teats swell beneath you as she draws in a deep breath. You suavely draw your muzzle along the front of her robe, nudging one side of it open to partially bare her chest. Either she doesn’t notice, or she pretends not to notice; _you_ certainly notice the one dark nipple that’s now within reach. You press your nose - which you know is cool - lightly against it and it puckers; you lick it with your tongue - which you know is warm - and she whimpers, the hand at your nape bunching tightly around a fistful of fur and skin.

“Stop, stop,” she says suddenly, and you freeze, worried that you did something wrong until it’s clear that she’s talking to herself. “This is _so_ wrong. What are you doing taking advantage of some poor animal with your perverted daydreams? It’s one thing reading the stuff Roxy sends you sometimes, but it’s a heck of another thing to actually do it _for real_.” Both of her hands have stopped moving.

Oh no. That’s not the right attitude to have, not at all. You clearly have to do a little bit more convincing here. Perhaps now is the time to be bold.

With a whine, you make sure that she’s looking at you before you give her your best sad puppy eyed gaze then very carefully - and very deliberately - draw your tongue across her nipple again. You see her shiver. You feel her hand fist at your nape again, the threat of someone who really is in control in spite of her soft appearance. You also smell her again, her continued arousal unmistakable, and you relish the scent.

Jane eases her grip on your withers. When she does, you raise your head with a pang of regret - that was a truly comfortable resting place - then shift around on the bed to nose at her robe. Her other hand is still slipped beneath the folds, but she withdraws it for you to sniff. And, when you lick her slick fingers, you finally taste her and relish every moment of it. She’s sweet, _very_ sweet, but there’s still that cloying muskiness underneath it all, and something else - some sort of tang that’s sharp and spicy, almost like cloves and cardamom mixed with peaches and anise - and combined it’s utterly delicious.

You catch the way her breath hitches when you draw out the time it takes to lick her fingers clean. And when you put your muzzle down to the fold of her robe where her hand had been earlier, she laughs nervously. But she doesn’t stop you.

You deftly flip a bit of the fabric aside and bare her hip. Jane shivers and places one hand on your head, fingers scritching at the back of your skull. You can tell that she’s very careful to not push you further, but she’s also being careful to not pull you back. It’s very endearing. You draw your tongue along the curve of her waist, her hip, and she draws her leg up so the robe falls back further. You can’t see her cunny from this angle, but the dark curls of her pubic hair are bared to the world, a thick mass peeking out from the edge of the fabric. You turn your head sideways and nuzzle at her mound.

Already you feel hot, your sheath too tight, and you want to be inside her now instead of minutes from now. You nuzzle at her some more, lapping at the joint between thigh and hip a few times until the fingers rubbing at your scalp dig forcefully through your fur and her breath hitches again. Only then do you finally get up in spite of her protests, leaping smoothly to the floor and then rearing back up again to brace your forelegs on the foot of the bed. Without preamble, you nose aside the other half of her robe - the belt had come undone some time ago - and bare her lower half in full.

The angle gives you splendid access to her nether regions, her labia slick and waiting, the skin flushed and the curls around it damp. It also gives her a splendid view of your own sheath, your prick partially distended, and you hear that nervous giggle again when she catches sight. It’s that one that comes before the protests to herself that this is _wrong_ and _unfair_ to you and _unnatural_ , and before she can voice a single one you bend down to lap at her cunt.

Instead of protests, she offers a low moan, and you know for certain now that she has well and truly given in to your totally sweet sex moves.

You quickly learn the pace Jane likes best, varying it from a slow swipe of your wide tongue straight up along her folds to fast little laps at the nub above them, and pretty soon you’ve fallen into a nice rhythm that seems to suit you both. She’s brought her hand back to your head again, her fingers twitching rhythmically through your fur and now and again scritching behind one ear. That feels good, but you don’t focus too hard on it. There are more important things at stake here.

When she comes the first time, you’re surprised by the suddenness. Her breath comes out in stuttered gasps, and she gives a whine almost like the one you’d given her earlier. You lap greedily at her through her climax and only relent when she brings one hand down to gently push your muzzle back from her clit, the skin there flushed and swollen and sensitive. You lean back, paws still braced on the foot of your bed, and lick your chops. You can’t quite help that smug look. It’s a dog thing.

Jane gives a weak sort of laugh and pets at your head, her hand flopping limply as she catches her breath. “Wow, I, uh,” she laughs again. “You almost look like you enjoyed that, too.” You did. You offer your best doggy grin, and she laughs again.

This time, you dip your head down to slowly lick at her folds, your tongue wide and hot against her labia. You’re careful to not lick at her clit again just yet; it’s probably still oversensitive, and you don’t want to push her too far too fast. She’s still wet from a mix of your saliva and her come, and when you lap harder, you’re able to press it inside her with each pass. “Oh, my,” she murmurs, fingers clenching down at the looser fur by your cheek. Oh my, indeed.

You build a rhythm that’s more measured, focusing on the folds of her cunt, and when she starts to whine again you break off with a whine of your own. You can see she’s ready, that she’s _been_ ready, and now you can’t wait anymore. You nose at her opening then give a little hop to get fully on the bed, your forepaws on either side of her teats and your hind legs planted wide between her legs. There’s no way she can ignore your own arousal now, your cock peeking out a few inches and your sheath tightening in anticipation. Just in case, though, you dip your hips a little and swing them toward her, pumping the air above her once, twice.

When you whine again, it’s more insistent. Jane hesitates only a moment longer, those last self-imposed protests clearly warring across her face, then breaths a final, “Okay. Okay, yes. I can’t believe this, but, um. Y- _yes_.”

She shifts beneath you, twisting to grab two of her pillows, then hikes her hips up enough to slide one beneath her rear, her legs braced to either side of you with knees bent. That puts her at a much more pleasing angle and you shift as well. You rear up to catch her thighs with your forelegs, her waiting cunny just a few inches below your prick, then dip your own hips as you swing them forward with quick thrusts in a full mount. She’s got the other pillow under her head, now, and she reaches down to brace your forelegs with both hands, tilting her hips and pushing them forward.

Instinct takes over for you and you thrust wildly at her, your cock still slim but almost three quarters of the way unsheathed. It slaps at her thigh, her ass, her cunt, and twice you plunge into her and pull out before you both shift and you manage to seat yourself fully. She’s warm, she’s hot all around you, and you whine, pumping with a short, rapid motion. You feel your prick slide out all the way with the stimulation, start to thicken, your sheath pull taut, and your balls smack back and forth with the frantic effort.

“O-oh, _oh_!” Jane’s breath comes in short gasps as you rut, and you watch with detached fascination as she releases you with one hand to cup her own teat, kneading at it with the same rapid fervor. She’s sweating, now, her skin glistening beneath you, and it causes your legs to slide on her thighs. She grasps at the loose fur of your flank and pulls you against her, tilting her hips up and widening the span of her knees so you can find better purchase to grip her waist.

You whine again, this time lower and with an edge to it. It’s not quite a growl, but it’s close, and Jane seems to understand that _you’re_ close because she croons at you between labored breaths, “Good boy, that’s my g-good boy, good _dog_ , _good boy_.” Your cock is swelling inside her even more, but still you thrust, unable and unwilling to stop amid that slick heat, your human bitch from another universe seemingly made to fit around you like some kind of miracle, now whimpering as she draws near her second climax, and you’re almost there, you’re so close, and you need this so much, and-

Blood rushes to your cock with your next sharp thrust, and you feel the flushed knot nearing the base swell up. You jerk your forelegs again, seating yourself as deep as you can and whine as you tie with her. You take no small satisfaction in the way her eyes suddenly go wide, _so so wide_ , when she feels your engorged prick plug her so tight that neither of you can shift one way or another, and it’s clearly just the right thing to send her over the edge a second time because she slams the back of one hand to her mouth to bite back a cry.

Oh _yeah_. Who’s the love doctor from another galaxy? It’s definitely you.

You can’t help but shake your right leg a little as your balls tighten with the first release of come deep inside her, your knot keeping all of it - and hers - from leaking out prematurely. After all, you came here to sire an _heir_ , not for just a quick tumble with some saucy vixen. You feel her muscles spasm around you, clamping down on the bit of cock below the knot that’s oh-so-sensitive. Your balls tighten again and your paw trembles; these are the first of but many waves ahead for you both.

You ease up, settling against her in the most comfortable position you can manage without twisting around - hind legs partially bent to your haunches, chest pressed against her stomach, and head resting (why, _hello_ there) right on her ample bosom. You’re panting, hot and out of breath, but it’s a leisurely pant, and you bask in the sensations washing over you as you continue to come in short bursts.

“Wow,” Jane pants herself, still overwhelmed. Then, “Wow,” again. When she catches on that the two of you are going to be like this a while, that she’s going to take quite a bit more to fill her up, she shifts just enough to slide the pillow out from beneath her so you both can settle back down on the bed more comfortably, you on your haunches and her on her ass, her legs loosely draped around you and ankles locked just above the base of your tail. She pets your head with one hand, murmuring praises that seem just as right spoken to a beloved pet as to a human lover. When the next round of come begins to fill her, she croons, “ _Wow_ ,” a third time.

There’s little more for you to do than ride out the rest of the tying, but that doesn’t mean that she can’t enjoy things a bit more, too. Your turn your head sideways, first nuzzling at her teat and then licking it. She grabs it in one hand, pressing it up and against your muzzle, and you give her more. She lets go of your head and presses her hand down low, rubbing at her clit until you feel her clench like a vice around you, her third climax drawing forth a loud, stuttering moan.

Jane whimpers when she realizes just how loud that was. “Dang it, if Dad finds me here like this, I am _so_ grounded.”

You, meanwhile, aren’t worried in the slightest. After all, you could just teleport him beyond the atmosphere into space if it came down to it. You lap at her teat as if it will reassure her. But it’s probably the extended silence afterward, broken only by her ragged breaths, that finally makes her relax again.

She doesn’t push herself for a fourth climax, but you can tell that she does keep herself comfortably aroused while your knot stays fixed in place, and you help where you can, too. At one point she places a hand on her abdomen, pressing down on it and commenting in surprise at just how full she feels. You can’t help but give her a toothy grin at that, tongue lolling out to one side and eyes half-closed in smug satisfaction.

You’re pretty sure that you’ve ruined her. Any human lover she takes might well outperform you in the whole rutting part, but in terms of endgame coupling you’re _definitely_ top dog.

It’s almost forty minutes later when you feel the last bit of fluid release and your knot begin to ease. You both whine when you slide free. Slipping back to the floor, you get a face full of cunny and give her a few broad licks as she relaxes into the bed, some of your excess come already dribbling out of her to puddle onto the forgotten bathrobe. The aroma of her is _incredible_ , musk and sex and sugary sweetness, and now you can smell your own scent strong on her and marking her as yours. “Good dog,” she breathes, then “Nnghhh,” when she feels more come dribble between her lips and threaten to soak into the sheets beneath. Without your knot to plug everything up and without the anatomy of a true bitch, some leakage is inevitable.

You settle back to lick yourself - cleanliness and godliness and all that - then watch as she reluctantly gets up to find her cast off towel to wipe herself dry. You settle down on your side as she tends to herself, eventually slipping into pajamas and lying back down in bed again, only this time properly with her pillows at the headboard and the sheet pulled up to her chest.

“Come here, boy,” she says, patting the bed right next to her, and you gladly comply, turning around in two neat circles before lying down pressed against her side. You conveniently rest your head on her chest right where she can scratch behind your ears. She leans over to turn out the light, then does precisely that - scritching in the spot that Jade always finds so easily, though not quite with the same rhythm.

“You’re such a good dog. Shucks..” Jane hesitates, her voice sleepy and low in the dark. “I hope that what I did with you really isn’t wrong. I mean, you seemed to really like it, too, but I can’t help but wonder if I wasn’t just projecting what I wanted to see with what you really were doing. So. I’m sorry if I did. But.. if I wan’t.. projecting, I mean.. I really liked that. A lot. A whole _heck_ of a lot.”

You won’t stay here for long and certainly not forever. But maybe, just maybe, you’ll stay one more night before flicking back through space and time to this place’s sister universe, the one that you call home. Or.. maybe you’ll stay two more nights. Yes. Maybe two.

After all, if you _really_ want an heir of your own out of this, you ought to be thorough.

That’s right, you decide. You’re staying until you get the job done, no matter how many times it takes.


End file.
